


The Constant Juxtaposition

by Snappy_Snippets



Series: The Language of Occlumency [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Hogwarts Era, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Occlumency, POV Draco Malfoy, Slash, featuring Harry's saviour complex and wicked mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-08 01:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5477279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snappy_Snippets/pseuds/Snappy_Snippets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Draco's last night at Hogwarts before travelling back home for the Christmas break to face his parents and, most probably, the Dark Lord himself. After weeks of intensive Occlumency training, Draco has a carefully constructed identity to flash in front of anyone interested. Tonight, however, he has to focus on treasuring his real one. Fortunately, Harry's mouth is here to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Constant Juxtaposition

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a shout-out to my wonderful questions-answering, improvements-offering, doubts-dispersing beta, [CurlzForMetal](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CurlzForMetal/profile). :) I've played around with the text a little afterwards, so all the remaining mistakes are mine.

Draco stared into the fire, pondering the realness of the smoke as it disappeared up the chimney in grey wisps and into the non-existence of the harsh reality beyond the Room. His memories of moments like these, when Harry's weight rested against his side and Harry's hair tickled his cheek, felt very much like the smoke. Both true, so real, here for just a split second and then instantly pushed into the abyss of the reality which could not be.

Draco was now accustomed to the peculiar feeling of being both present and absent during their nightly meetings. On the one hand, he was aware of Harry's socked feet twisting and rubbing against his ankles, he could feel Harry's fingertips trailing lazy patterns on his chest, sneaking under his shirt. On the other hand, his mind, now trained into constantly keeping up the Occlumency wall, filed each touch and each sound and each smell as a 'never-happened', instantaneously spurting out believable lies in their place. 

If anyone ever searched Draco's mind for the night before he travelled home for the Christmas break, they would find him in the deserted aisles of the library, researching mental potions. They would not stumble upon a memory of cuddling Harry Potter on the sofa in front of the fire in the Room of Requirement. Because Draco was not cuddling Harry Potter on the sofa in front of the fire in the Room of Requirement. He was in the library, researching mental potions.

Draco dug his fingers deeper into the mess of Harry's hair and gripped the strands, pulling Harry's head up until he could see the questioning green eyes. 

He trailed his fingers against the spines of the leather-bound books. 

He used his other hand to tilt Harry's chin and pressed a kiss to the slightly parted lips. Harry sighed into his mouth, his body relaxing and growing even heavier against Draco's side. The fingers on Draco's chest clenched, ragged nails scraping his skin. 

_What is behind the wall does not lie there because it is discarded. It lies there because it is treasured._

Draco's mind was calm, registering the softness of Harry's lips, the faint scent of cinnamon that seemed to always surround him, the way his knees bumped against Draco's as he tried to squirm even closer. Draco treasured every one of these memories, filling the emptiness beyond the wall with them, closing them in the protective bauble of nothingness. 

He closed his eyes, inhaling the dry air that irritated his nose and carried with it the musky scent of old parchment and dust. He was in the library.

The fact that he now led two separate lives - at least in his own head - was no longer confusing. It required none of the effort or concentration which had been necessary at the start of his Occlumency training. His mind sieved through his experiences efficiently, compartmentalizing them with ease, knowing what could and could not be.

He wasn't afraid to go home. He wasn't afraid to face his parents. He wasn't afraid to stand in front of the Dark Lord. His secrets, Harry's life, Snape's true allegiance were no longer in danger from a flash of red eyes and a quick Legilimens. His mind was ready for this. _Draco_ was ready for this.

His only doubt was whether he was ready for two weeks of living only one of his lives, and not the one he would choose if he had any say in the matter.

_You will come back in January and your hero might not recognize you._

'Where are you?' Harry whispered against his lips.

'Inside my own head, as is required of me these days,' Draco drawled tiredly.

Harry looked at him, eyes shining with concern and Draco was reminded of all the times he drowned in those green depths - when they sparkled with excitement, flared with anger or were clouded over from pleasure. All these times lay hidden behind the wall, too, replaced with evidence of committed Dark Arts studies and devoted Potter-bashing conversations.

'Snogging off, real-world talk on?'

Draco sighed heavily and nodded, squeezing Harry reassuringly.

'Still no news on whether Voldemort will be at the Manor?'

'No engraved invitation to join the Dark Lord's reunion party, if that's what you mean. But, as I've said, I have a feeling he's already there. My father's letters have never reeked so much of fear.'

Harry dropped his head back to Draco's chest and moved his hand down, stroking Draco's stomach through the fabric of his shirt.

'I just wish there was something I could do,' he murmured against Draco's collarbone.

Draco rolled his eyes.

'Oh, not that again, please. Can you not pocket your sodding saviour complex for even one night, Potter?'

Harry looked up at him, pouting.

'But it's not just one night, is it? It's almost two weeks. Two weeks you're going to be close to that monster. Two weeks I may not hear from you at all. Two weeks I may not know if you're all right,' Harry gave him an accusatory look. 'And don't _Potter_ me, _Malfoy_ ,' he said, jabbing Draco's chest with his index finger.

Draco sighed and scooped up the finger, raising it to his lips and giving it a quick peck. 

'This is not something I fear,' he said seriously. 'I am going to be all right. I know what to do and I know how to do it. I'm well-prepared. Let me protect us.'

'Well, if it was only about this one time,' Harry's voice grew more forceful and he grimaced. 'But it's not. You want to _spy_ , like Snape does.' 

'Again, this is not something I fear...'

'Oh my God,' Harry groaned, burying his face in Draco's chest. 'I think I preferred it when you shat your pants at the sight of a Hippogriff.'

Draco chuckled but swatted Harry over the head on principle. He rested the tip of his nose on top of it, inhaling the smell of cinnamon –

– old parchment.

'What if,' he said quietly, 'when I come back, I start to _Potter_ you even more?'

'You _Potter_ me on a daily basis, Draco,' Harry grumbled, 'what with no one but Snape knowing about,' he waved his hand around vaguely, 'any of this. I honestly can't imagine you _Potter-ing_ me more.'

Draco sighed again. Of course. Here was Harry, downplaying the problem yet again. They had talked about this before, right after the Occlumency training session when Snape had said that the hidden, replaced memories tended to fade over time. Harry had refused to acknowledge it as an issue, saying that what mattered was convincing everyone that nothing had changed and keeping Draco safe. But Draco really did know exactly how to keep himself and Harry safe. This wasn't an issue at all. The issue was that Draco wasn't ready to let even one memory of Harry go. He didn't want to suddenly find himself not knowing what Harry's hair smelled like. He didn't want to forget how soft Harry's fingers had been when they'd brushed away the tears of Draco's shattered identity from his cheeks. Or how sensitive the insides of Harry's thighs were. He wasn't ready to bear such losses. Most of all, he wasn't ready to bear such losses and not even know it, because if Draco lost a memory completely, he wouldn't even know it had ever existed, right?

The next tome Draco took down from the bookcase was heavy in his hands as he sank to the ground to peruse the knowledge within.

He turned his head to look at the smoke.

_We do not exist without our pasts._

'Harry... I am who I am now because of you,' Draco said quietly.

Harry snorted into his chest and turned his head. His lips moved as if he was about to speak.

'Shush,' Draco let his hand fall from Harry's hair to his face and he covered the half-open mouth. 'Shut up and listen to me,' he said calmly.

Harry groaned, his mouth worked again and the soft insides of Draco's fingers were nibbled at.

'Impossible creature,' Draco murmured, keeping his hand still and gathering his two trains of thought despite the distraction.

He leaned against the bookcase, keeping the open tome propped up against his drawn up knees and rubbed his eyes. There was nothing of use here. A sorry excuse for a library in a sorry excuse for a school. Everything of value was probably locked in the Restricted Section.

He felt Harry's tongue dart out, the tip trailing along the crooks where Draco's fingers were pressed against one another.

'I wouldn't be who I am if it wasn't for you,' Draco lowered his head and whispered into Harry's ear, 'I was unhappy and frightened before you turned your saviour complex on me.'

'I think you mean my mouth...?' The words were released in a muffled huff against Draco’s palm.

The tongue twirled around Draco's index finger, pulling it inside the hot mouth. Draco felt a shudder travel up his arm and down his spine. 

'What is it with this oral fixation of yours, Potter?' he drawled.

Harry smiled around the finger.

'Jus' givin' ya one mo' thing to 'member me by,' he mumbled.

Draco chuckled and closed his eyes, swiping his fingertip around the hot flesh.

'I don't want to let this fade away,' he whispered. 'I don't want to forget this, forget you...'

Harry pulled off Draco's finger with a pop, tilting his head back to glare up at Draco.

'Forget _me_?' he asked incredulously. 'You can't forget me. Not with the terrific, eye-popping, life-altering blow-jobs I give.'

Draco couldn't help the laugh that escaped him, but as he looked at Harry - the bright eyes and the look-I'm-making-a-fool-of-myself-just-to-amuse-you smirk on his lips - Draco felt a spasm of painful longing grip his chest. His mind immediately pushed it back behind the wall, burying it deep and Draco realised he had never had a better understanding of what a vicious circle was.

He closed his eyes again and stood up to pull another heavy tome down from the shelf. He opened it on the index page, scanning the list for a familiar name. 

'What if I come back and I am more of my old self than you're able to cope with?' Draco opened his eyes, looking at Harry.

For a moment there, Harry seemed to be on the verge of another blow-job joke, but something in Draco's eyes must have discouraged him.

'I'm sorry,' he said, plopping back down and insinuating his head into the crook of Draco's neck. 'It's just that... I feel helpless and I hate it. I know you're worried, but... _I'm_ not going to forget. And I won't let you forget, either. But now, there's nothing I can do to help you... It's the last time I see you before you go, the last time we can talk properly and I thought... maybe if I... lightened the atmosphere, made you laugh... sucked on your finger... at least I'd be... useful... I dunno.'

Draco smiled to himself. Trust the stupid sod to mask his feeling of helplessness with lascivious gestures. He closed his arms around Harry and squeezed tightly, treasuring the moment as it slipped behind the wall to join all the other things he had never done with Harry Potter.

'If I come back and I need to be reminded of my priorities,' Draco whispered into Harry's hair, 'you have a blank permission to Incarcerous me and give me another life-altering blow-job.'

And that too, vanished behind the wall, not forgotten or ignored, but treasured, like every single memory of Harry.


End file.
